I'm going to whine for a bit here...

Being a writer is weird and hard. Somedays, like today, I wonder why I bother. I’m published. My book has sold more copies than I’ve expected. I have some really great reviews. And yet, something smacks me down and makes creating very hard.

Generally, I power through those days by editing or working on a book review for someone else’s work. Today, I’m writing this. It’s going to be long and rambly, so if you intend to read, strap in.

I’m published by an indie publisher and I knew what that meant going in. Darkstroke has been incredible, and they really work well with their authors. I have some friends with other indie publishers who have had very different experiences and I know I’m lucky with them.

I’ve looked at the numbers. I know what self-published and indie-published authors sell and make. I didn’t sign this contract expecting to be rich. I honestly expected to sell about twelve copies and I expected them to sell to my friends who would never actually read it. And don’t get me wrong, support is support so the fact that ANYONE has purchased this is mind-blowing to me.

When I sent out signed copies (except for the giveaways I put on) those books were all purchased by not me and were sent to me to sign. I didn’t have everyone begging me for a free copy. I hear that is pretty rare. So again, I know I’m lucky. And I’m super thrilled about all of it. Most days.

I will probably never be a New York Times bestseller (though I am an Amazon bestseller, so there’s something). I may never sign with one of the big publishing companies. I am working on another novel now (well, not at this second because instead, I’m here, whining) and if I’m very lucky, Darkstroke will agree to publish that one as well.

My reviews so far are pretty solid. A few 4s, mostly 5s. I did get my first 3 star recently. It was a little strange because they pegged my novel as YA. Which it’s not. But I can’t expect every reader to pay close attention to that, I guess. But if you’re looking for YA, I don’t think my writing is for you. I know the day I get a 1 star is coming. Everyone gets them. Stephen King, Louisa May Alcott, George RR Martin, and soon, I’m sure, me. And that’s okay. You can’t create anything all people will love. No kind of art is universally adored by every human. I know this. I’m okay with this.

It’s not a 3 star review that’s making me feel mopey today. I can’t exactly pinpoint what it is. I think it’s a few things. One is that I keep reading these really great books by self-published or indie-published authors, and no one has ever heard of them. As I said, I have very positive reviews, but less than twenty. I read these other great books and they have the same amount or less.

And then there is just the giant pool of self-published or indie-published novels that are just (in my option) bad. I’ve come across a couple this year that look like they were sent to print without any kind of editing. One I read was such a jumbled mess of weird storytelling that I had to quit reading (and I can usually finish a book, even a bad one).

Sure, you read hugely successful novels with typos (I’m convinced every book has at least one) and some with really bad or just plain weird stories and you wonder ‘how did this get signed with a top publisher?’ But even the worst of those books will sell more than I will. That’s just fact.

The sad truth is that many readers are afraid or unwilling to try self or indie-published novels because they are sometimes so riddled with errors. And if I’m being honest, more often than not, the bad ones are the ones I find. So when I find a really great one, I just want to shout it from the rooftops. I think, though, all I’m really doing is whispering in the void. Whispering franticly above all the others out there in the same place. I don’t have the clout or the following to put anyone, least of all myself, on the map.

Maybe this is what’s getting to me. I love Last Time She Died. I’m really proud of it and I’m proud of what I’ve done with it. But the truth is, it might be stuck exactly where it is. It was released February 10, 2021 and sales climbed for a while. Up up up, and every other week when I got my sales report from my publisher, I smiled, proud of myself for being out there and doing so well.

Then the sales just stopped. Like they hit a wall. One week I was selling, then I wasn’t. There wasn’t a noticeable change in my efforts to market the book. My whisper was just swallowed up by the void again.

The truth is Last Time She Died is something I worked long and hard on. I’d given up all hopes of publishing it until I found some very helpful friends who helped me whip it into shape and turn it into what it is now. Is it perfect? No. Nothing I make ever will be. I am human after all. Is it good? I think so. And there are some strangers out there who have purchased it and then messaged me to tell me their very kind thoughts on it. So, I can honestly say, it must not be crap.

I did something many writers never do. I didn’t give up and I followed through. Last Time She Died is published and it’s out in the world.

And it’s been stolen at least three times. It’s been on a couple websites for free downloads, though we were quickly able to get those down. It’s currently all up for your viewing pleasure on some site full of naked ladies. Stolen. Nothing against naked ladies, it’s just not how’d I’d market my book if it were up to me. Which it should be. If it hadn’t have been stolen, you know?

I found it completely on accident. And nothing I can do, it seems, will make it go away. So someone that wants to read it can just go find a stolen copy. Is it formatted correctly? Is the whole thing there? It looks like it but without reading it, I just don’t know. But what if it’s not? What if three random chapters are missing and you find it and that’s the only copy you ever read and the whole thing makes no sense because of it? An eBook is $3.99. Asking your library to buy a copy is free. Then you get the real thing and I know someone out there gives a damn.

I’m not alone in this. People’s books get stolen all the time. Stephanie Meyer famously had her book stolen (though in draft form, which would be all the more mortifying) and simply gave up on it for a decade. I completely get why. She had clout, and a big publishing company, and a name behind her to help and it still happened, and it still wrecked her faith. I have none of that.

I realize this is a rambling pity party that, likely, not a single soul will read, but I promise I’m not just whining to make you feel bad for me. I want to write and I want to enjoy it. Sometimes I just have to shake out the darkness to get my mind right. This is doing that for me.

If you read a book and you enjoy it, pop a 4 or 5 star review onto Amazon or Goodreads for it. If you read a self or indie-published novel that you hate, think before you fire off that crappy review. Are you being constructive? Could you reach out to the author directly and discuss your issues? Far be it from me to tell you how to write your reviews, just realize this is someone’s hard work you’re dumping on. I, personally, have a rule. If I can’t give it 3 stars, I don’t leave a review. I don’t think everyone should live that way. That’s just my way.

If you want a book and notice it on some creepy site for free download or just there for you to read, think about it. Did the author put it there? Do you want to steal from them? Could you just ask your library for a copy?

Reading is fun. Writing, for me at least, is fun. But somedays both can be so marred by the disappointing junk that comes with it that I wonder why bother? Why write just for no one to read and for those that do to just…hate it?

For me, I guess. I think the only way to get out of this funk is to realize that I have to write if it’s what I want. If I’m enjoying it and I’m happy with it. And usually, I am. Usually, I love it and want to do it. So I guess the world be damned at that point, right?

Maybe I’ll never be signed with a big publisher. Maybe I will. Maybe ‘Fire’ will hit the shelves in fancy cover with all the backing a huge publisher can give it. But I shouldn’t write with that in mind. Not if I want the writing to be fun. That’s why I started. I loved to see where the words took me. So, for me, I can’t see writing a way I don’t want to.

If you’re still here, I’m not sure why. But thank you. I feel much better after my rant. Maybe someday you’ll read something I’ve written. Maybe not. If you do, I hope you enjoy it. If you’re a writer, I hope you love what you create and I hope you find the people out there who love it like you do.